


Crossing Paths

by fayegrove



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hotel Sex, Loss of Virginity, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayegrove/pseuds/fayegrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have been dragged to a club in an exclusive hotel for your sister's bachelorette party. While sitting alone at the bar you encounter someone whom you never could have dreamed possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:**

> _“May I kiss you?” Tom murmurs quietly, his nose brushing against yours as his half-closed eyes seem to gaze directly into your soul. Only when his hands find yours and hold them tightly do you realize that your entire body is trembling. All you can do is close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing as, in a moment of boldness, you close the gap and brush your lips lightly against his."_
> 
> Also on [Tumblr](http://tomsdarling.tumblr.com/post/33656204048/crossing-paths).

With a hint of sullenness you stir the ice in your drink, trying desperately to ignore the celebration going on behind you. This is easier said than done as every few minutes another guest comes up next to your stool while they order another drink, their face flushed with alcohol and the exertion of dancing, and attempts to engage you in excited conversation. For the most part you smile and nod your head when they do this, then wait for them to retrieve their drink and stumble off back towards where they were all gathered on the dance floor.

If it was not for the love you bore your sister you would not even be here. Partying has never been your favorite past time—a fact that Tina well knows—but nevertheless she had begged you to come along for her bachelorette party. She had seen you beginning to protest and immediately cut you off with a devious smile.

“I took the liberty of asking your professors if you were behind on any school work, and they said you had done it all early. Imagine that,” she had added with a hint of irony. “The point is, I know you are free so don’t try and wiggle out of this one. It’s my last night to be wild!”

And so you had gone with your sister and fifteen of her friends to some swanky hotel that you had never even paid attention to before but was, according to the frenzied whispers of the women as they exited their limousine, the nicest in Seattle, Washington. The place had felt overly elegant to the point of being ludicrous in your opinion. The floors were white marble and glimmered underneath the dim, yellow-hued pendant lighting that hung from the cavernous ceiling, and modern, curved red chairs lined the glass walls. Still, you had held your tongue and followed them all towards the club that was located on the bottom floor. The thumping bass reverberated on the ground, through your heels and up into your bones before you had even reached the doors. With one look at your sister and her entourage the bouncer opened the doors and let you all in with a wink.

Your initial, stunned impression was that you had walked onto a movie set. The entire room was black-lit with the only true lighting coming dimly from behind the bar. Otherwise there were streaks of red, green, blue, and purple laser lights bouncing this way and that in time to the dub step that pumped out of the immense speakers all around the room. Servers worked their way through the crowds, easily distinguishable in the neon orange shirts that glowed under the black lights, and carrying trays of shots to pass out amongst the dancers on the crowded floor. Your eyes took in the type of dancing taking place and you had groaned internally. They were all grinding up on each other and, to your slight discomfort, you could have sworn you saw a few of them with their clothes hastily undone, their movements not quite matching the rhythm of the music.

Tina had not noticed in the slightest when you quickly disappeared from where they all had made their way to the middle of the dance floor, most of them branching off to writhe against strange men with the modesty of street walkers. You had found your sanctuary at the bar, your only company that of the preoccupied bartender. Unable to make out what you had said from behind the counter and only having heard your request for “sweet!” he had slid over a pina colada. When you had taken a tentative sip and then given a thumbs-up of approval, he smirked and gave a return thumbs-up before moving on to the next customer. After only a few sips your head was already feeling foggy, thanks in part to the fact that you had forgotten to eat anything before heading out. The slight buzz was a blissful relief and you could feel a contented grin spreading across your face.

Someone comes up and brushes against your shoulder lightly as they take the stool to your right but, your eyes being closed to avoid the bouncing lights, all you can make out is a pleasant scent of men’s cologne. Inhaling deeply, head swimming slightly with the alcohol and the rush of endorphins at the aroma, you instinctively open your eyes and turn your head to see who the smell had come from.

Your heart leaps into your throat. For a few, gut-wrenching moments you are absolutely certain that the small amount of alcohol you've ingested is causing you to hallucinate because there is no possible way that your eyes could be reflecting the truth. Face burning, you turn back to the bar and stare unseeingly at the wall of bottles illuminated behind the bartender, willing yourself not to look over again and to keep your stomach steady.

“I’ll have a rum and coke, please,” a beautiful, English accented voice calls over the pulsating music. The bartender nods and pulls out two bottles. Unable to resist the temptation, you turn your head in the direction of the man who had spoken. The bottom falls out of your stomach when Tom Hiddleston turns towards you with a broad, friendly smile and leans forward, his delicious cologne clouding your already diluted sense of reason. “Bit loud in here, isn’t it?” he said clearly enough for you to make out, his lips so close to your ear that you have to force yourself to suppress a shiver.

“Yes! Try being in here for an hour!” you hear yourself call out in response, though you are not aware of your mind still having the capacity to form coherent thoughts.

“An hour? Good Lord, I only just got here and I’m already considering leaving,” he laughs, his eyes never leaving your face and his smile broadening. You can feel your heart rate beginning to speed up as you gaze upon the face of the man you had admired for so long, whom you had watched the films of to the point of obsession and joined in with others to gush over with futile hope of this moment coming to pass. Though you are tempted to believe that the alcohol has teamed up with your imagination to trick you, a part of you knows that Tom Hiddleston is actually sitting beside you in an elite club in the heart of Seattle, and smiling at you as if no one else is present.

“Well I can’t leave the hotel yet,” you call over the music, motioning vaguely to the dance floor where the group of women was still loosely gathered, all of them bumping and grinding away to the pulsing music. You see Tom glance over at them and chuckle, then turn his eyes back to you.

“Say, do you want to go get a coffee? I daresay it will be much easier to talk!” he calls over the bass, motioning towards the door. You nod dazedly and he slides effortlessly off of his stool, reaching into his wallet and pulling out some cash to set on the counter. “I’ll pay for hers,” he mouths to the bartender, who nods as Tom offers you his hand.

Trying your best not to tremble, you reach your hand out to grasp his so that you can slide off of the stool. There is not exactly a large amount of alcohol coursing through your blood stream so, when you find yourself unsteady as you land awkwardly on your heels, you can't even use it as an excuse for your clumsiness. Tom easily supports your weight and hunches down slightly so that he can see your face. “Are you alright?” he laughs amiably as you regain your balance and blush slightly, grateful that the black lights make the pink impossible to see.

“Yes, thank you,” you say automatically as he leads the way to the exit of the club, his large frame cutting through the sea of people as easily as a knife through butter. You remain clutching onto his hand, your thoughts a blur of excitement and stunned disbelief as you follow close behind in his wake. Soon you have left the stifling confines of the club and Tom turns around so that you are facing each other. The doors to the club shut behind you, blocking out most of the sound and leaving your ears ringing in the sudden, deafening silence.

“Much better,” Tom chuckles. The sound of his laughter sends a burst of adrenaline shooting through your limbs and into the pit of your stomach, every nerve in your body suddenly alive as he motions with one hand for you to follow him. “There is a rather nice coffee shop located at the other entrance. I daresay you could use some,” he adds with gentle humor as you stumble forward on your heels. Mentally you curse Tina for making you dress in such a ridiculous get up, and then immediately wonder if you should have told her where you had gone. Reflexively you glance at a clock located behind the service desk as you pass by and see that the time reads only 11:32; she wouldn't notice you had gone any time soon.

When you reach the coffee shop you notice the girls behind the counter all stopping to stare at the two of you, expressions of mingled shock and jealousy etched plainly on their faces. Their reactions don’t surprise you—you can barely grasp the truth yourself as you follow Tom’s tall frame towards the counter, your eyes finally finding the privacy to take in the entirety of his appearance as he reads over the menu.

That night he had chosen to wear snug-fitting, indigo blue jeans with his worn-in brown boots. With a jolt you realize that you had seen his black, leather jacket in pictures and interviews and, nearly making you whimper when you realized, the same, slightly see-through grey shirt he had worn so often as well. He turns to face you then, smiling warmly, and you realize that the girl is waiting to take your order.

“Oh, um… I’ll… I’ll just have a caramel macchiato, please,” you mumble as you reach into your purse for your wallet to pay.

“Don’t worry, darling. My treat,” Tom’s eyes twinkle as they take in your surprise. Not trusting yourself to fully suppress a squeal of pleasure, you nod gratefully and follow him over to a high-chaired table set against the glass wall. His height makes it easy for him to seat himself but, being of only average height yourself, you have to climb somewhat ungracefully up into yours. The realization that he was watching your progress with a grin of amusement pulled another burning blush into your cheeks, but he just leans against his chair and drapes one arm across the back of it.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

I know who you are, Thomas William Hiddleston, you think frantically as your eyes rake over his curly, strawberry blonde hair and the well-groomed ginger beard encircling his lips and chin. No amount of money could ever have gotten you to admit this, however, and you just stare at him with ill-disguised wonder. Before you can think of a neutral answer one of the girls behind the counter approaches with your two drinks and sets them down. She ignores you completely, her attention solely for Tom.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks breathlessly, and you notice that she is actually pressing her thighs together slightly.

“No thank you,” he smiles up at her, though, you realize with a renewal of tingling in your fingers, with slightly less warmth than the smile he gives you as his eyes return to your face. “What did you say your name was, love?”

A few seconds pass before you realize that he had asked you a question and, only when you notice his friendly expression slowly shifting to a grin something rather more knowing than you would have liked, you finally stutter out your name, feeling every bit like an idiot.

“That’s a beautiful name, darling,” you hear him say from far away, hardly aware that you had even spoken. More to calm your nerves than to counteract the alcohol you lift the cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip of the hot liquid. The sweet warmth clears your mind a bit and your eyes refocus to see that Tom is watching you with an expression of one enjoying something immensely; you feel the heat creeping back into your cheeks. Vaguely you wonder if you are going to ever stop blushing.

“You seem nervous, are you alright?” he asks in a deep, melodic voice that makes your hands tremble slightly. You set the cup down so as not to spill any and burn yourself, which you know you would be quite apt to do.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, acutely aware of the pitch and tone of your voice and hoping to God that you don’t sound as pathetic as you feel. “Thank you very much for the coffee. And the alcohol,” you add, remembering that he had covered that tab as well.

“My pleasure,” he nods his head towards you politely, taking his own cup of coffee into his hands and tapping his fingers against the cardboard. You watch, entranced, as those hands that you had secretly longed to have brush against your skin rolled rhythmically against the container. He notices your preoccupation and glances down, laughing with a touch of embarrassment. “Sorry, love, nervous habit I suppose.” He removes his fingers from the cup and instead laces them together on the table.

He’s nervous? What could Tom Hiddleston possibly be nervous about? You wonder with amazement as a quiet settles over the two of you, each lost in your own thoughts. With a touch of embarrassment you realize that he is staring intently at you and you try desperately to focus on the coffee in your hands, taking sips in a quicker succession than you likely would have done normally. The scalding liquid burns your tongue, numbing it.

“So those were your friends back there?” he asks lightly, and you realize that he is trying to keep conversation going. This puts you slightly more at ease and you manage a grimaced smile for him.

“My sister is having her bachelorette party tonight,” you explain in a long-suffering tone. Tom laughs at this and leans back against his chair again, smirking at you.

“And yet you weren’t out there on the floor dancing with them. Why not?” There was no judgment in his voice and, to your great surprise, you realize by the way that he is staring into your eyes that he is truly curious. This bolsters your courage and you put your cup of coffee down, meeting his gaze with slightly lessed self-consciousness.

“I’m not exactly the partying type,” you admit, plucking absent-mindedly at the fabric of your dress under the table. “I’d rather stay home and read a book, to be honest. But Tina made sure that I could come so… here I am.”

“What do you like to read?”

“Pretty much anything, though at the moment I’m re-reading Jane Austen.” You bite your lip then, suddenly awkward as you remember that you had seen many a time a film connected to that very author with him in it. If he notices your sudden embarrassment he says nothing, merely nodding in approval.

“She’s a wonderful author,” he agrees with cheer. For the next fifteen minutes you two embark on an easy-flowing conversation about books and plays, and when the conversation inevitably turns to Shakespeare you can sense the excitement building in him. “Come to think of it,” he says with sudden ardor, “I happened to have brought with me my first edition of Hamlet. Would you like to take a look?”

Your breathing escalates: Tom Hiddleston is asking you up to his hotel room. Though your heart rate accelerates and your thoughts immediately slide in a direction that terrifies you with its unknown possibilities, you force yourself to remain firmly in the present. There is no proof that he has any intentions towards you—though the thought of such a chance makes you nearly faint—and all he has asked is if you wanted to see a possession of his. So you nod your head in agreement and feel your heart leap into your throat at the truly joyous smile that spreads on his face. He slides lithely off of his chair to the ground and waits quietly as you gather your purse and climb down as well, albeit less gracefully than he did, then walk with him towards the elevator.

“So what do you do for a living, love?” he asks you in a valiant attempt to keep conversation alive, pressing the button with a number ten on it as he does so.

“I’m a student, actually… I’m hoping to become an author.”

“Are you really?” Tom exclaims, fascinated, as the elevator doors slide open and he steps inside. You follow him through the narrow entrance, aware when the doors close that you are now completely sequestered with him. “That is marvelous, what do you write?”

A flash of thoughts cross your mind of the various stories that you had long preferred to write, and was fully conscious of the fact that your own, original stories took a backseat to the more…inspired writings of yours that littered the internet. Cheeks burning, you cannot maintain a gaze with him and become suddenly quite interested with digging into your purse. “Uhm, fantasy dramas mostly,” you mutter, intensely grateful that he could not read your thoughts.

“That’s fantastic,” he says with admiration, the little laugh lines around his eyes crinkling with his smile. “I’m sure you write beautifully. Maybe you can send me a copy when you get published,” he jests, winking at you.

The elevator doors open on the tenth floor and he motions with his hand for you to precede him out, which you do, acutely aware of his presence as he walks directly behind you out into the hallway. He leads the way down the aisle and with each step your breathing accelerates, your mind a fog of excitement and panic. When he finally comes to a stop and pulls out his hotel card to swipe in the security lock, you become fearful that you might be close to fainting as he opens the door wide for you.

Upon walking inside you are immediately distracted by the thought that staying in such a hotel room must cost a small fortune. The sitting room alone is larger than your entire dorm room, and the entirety of the exterior wall is made of glass. Outside you have a sweeping view of the Seattle skyline, yellow and red lights twinkling like slowly moving stars in the distance. The fear temporarily replaced by awe, you allow your eyes to sweep across the rest of the room, taking in the all-white, modern furniture that decorated the suite and the stainless steel kitchen that branched off to the side. When your eyes finally make their way back to Tom you realize that he has been watching your open admiration with mute pleasure.

“Lovely place, isn’t it? To be honest I never have quite gotten used to the luxuries that are so prevalent in places like this hotel.” He tosses the hotel card on the counter and leans against the bar, watching you silently. There is something strange in his gaze that brings butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach. Suddenly nervous, you turn your attention to the glass wall and approach the barrier, though you stop a good five feet away and merely lean towards the glass to peer down at the street below. Behind you a gentle laugh rings out and you start, whipping around to see that Tom had approached you silently while you were concentrating. “Frightened of heights?”

You nod vaguely, your mouth as dry as cotton when he takes a few, deliberate steps towards you, closing the distance. Your head tilts back as he comes closer and you are again struck by how impressively tall he is. Then he is standing directly before you, so close that you can see the musculature of his chest and stomach under his grey shirt and could make out the individual hairs of his beard. A flush of heat burns across your skin, leaving goose bumps in its path. Uncomprehending of what was happening you see his shoulders arch as he bends over slightly, his face coming ever closer to yours. Though terrified you cannot tear your gaze away from his and your eyes remain locked on his blue irises as his face comes so near yours that his lips are mere centimeters away. His breath is warm on your skin, smelling faintly of mint and coffee and igniting an unfamiliar fire within you.

“May I kiss you?” Tom murmurs quietly, his nose brushing against yours as his half-closed eyes seem to gaze directly into your soul. Only when his hands find yours and hold them tightly do you realize that your entire body is trembling. All you can do is close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing as, in a moment of boldness, you close the gap and brush your lips lightly against his.

There are no words for the emotions that dance across your heart in that moment, Tom’s lips gently pressing against yours as his hands slide through your hair. His tongue prods gently and you allow him to explore your mouth, surprised at the clenching this causes throughout your entire being. You had kissed before but nothing has ever compared to this. Tom did not choke you with his tongue, nor overpower you with his impatience. He merely probes delicately until soon you are gripping onto the back of his neck, lost in passion.

His hands make their way down to your waist and his long fingers seemed to burn holes in the fabric of your dress. The room had become quite hot yet the temperature was nothing to the flames licking at your insides as your fingers slide up into Tom’s curls, your kisses becoming more desperate when you feel him press his body against yours. You moan at the sensation and his hands move up to cradle the sides of your face, his kisses ceasing. He stares from one of your eyes to the next, back and forth, as if searching for a trace of something that you were not aware of. Then he smiles and when he speaks, his voice is husky.

“Would you like to go to the bedroom, sweetheart?”

Your knees go weak at the significance of those words and, for one terrifying moment, you think that you are truly going to faint. Had Tom not maintained a firm grip on your face you might well have crumpled to the floor. Instead you hold onto his hands tightly and meet his gaze; he is watching you with a mixture of desire and apprehension that awakens a painful ache between your legs. The only response you can muster is a nodding of your head and he smiles kindly down into your eyes. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side and rubbing the side of your arm briskly as he leads you towards the open door where you can distinctly see a large bed waiting. You find yourself grateful for the comfort of his one-armed embrace and strangely exhilarated by the combined fear and longing his touch evokes.

Once in the bedroom your eyes automatically focus on the bed. Against your will you feel your breathing climb to peak levels and your knees begin to go weak underneath you as your thoughts become frantic. His grip on you strengthens and he turns to face you, concern darkening his features. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I…” How do I tell him that I’ve never done this? How can I admit that I have no idea what to do, and that I am terrified I will be a disappointment? How can I compare to the beautiful women he has had? “I’m scared,” you hear yourself whisper in shame, lowering your gaze to the grey carpeted floor. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes and you try desperately to contain them so that he can’t see, but then a warm finger is placed beneath your chin and tilts your face upwards. Your eyes remain closed as a single tear burns a path from your eye and down your cheek, betraying you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” After a moment you obey and find that Tom is smiling at you with such tenderness that your heart squeezes painfully. His other hand cups the side of your face and with one thumb he wipes away the tear, then leans forward to kiss you lightly on the forehead. “There is nothing to fear. We will do nothing that you don’t want to do.”

In that moment you see all that he is offering to do—and more amazingly, to not do—all to keep you comfortable. Staring into his eyes you realize that you could request anything of him and he would comply, regardless of his own personal wants or needs. That more than anything else is what gives you the courage to stand on tip-toe and plant a gentle kiss on his lips, offering him your unspoken consent even as you shiver with nerves.

His arms wrap tightly around you until you are completely enveloped in his embrace and your eyes close at the sheer intimacy of that moment, where no one in the world but the two of you exist and your light touches morph into a dire need for the other. One hand slides from your back and down your side until it reaches the bare skin exposed under the hemline of your dress. The touch on your thigh ignites a dormant flame between them that you’ve never experienced and the heat widens your eyes with surprise. Having felt your sudden tension, Tom smirks against your lips. In one, swift motion he lifts you up into his arms and carries you effortlessly towards the bed where he lays you gently down; he then slides into the bed beside you and goes still, his arms snaking around your midsection.

Knowing that he is giving you the opportunity to deny him yet again, you plant a tentative kiss on Tom’s lips. Then, emboldened by his chivalry, you place both of your trembling hands on the lapels of his leather coat and begin to slide them down his shoulders. He sits up in the bed so as to accommodate your unspoken request, watching with interest your innocent admiration for his physique as you remove the jacket and set it aside on the bed. When your eyes finally meet his again you can plainly see that his need for you has grown exponentially. He arcs one eyebrow and pauses for just a moment before crawling towards you on the bed, his lips finding yours and opening your mouth with his tongue. This time, caught up in his arms on the soft mattress, you find yourself more easily ruled by instinct. One hand reaches boldly out towards his midsection and tugs at the hem of his shirt; he meets your gaze.

“Do you want to take it off?” he murmurs in your ear, sending a shiver running the length of your spine. You nod, gathering your jittering fingers in the fabric of his shirt. Anxiety at your lack of experience is soon outweighed by the yearning to see his bare skin and you glide the material up and across his chest, where he then takes the shirt and swiftly pulls it over his head so as to leave your gaze unbroken. He remains sitting upright, allowing you to absorb the sight of him shirtless. The concentrated heat beginning to pool between your thighs as you take in the lean but defined muscles of his arms and torso is agony, and as your eyes drift to the trail of hair leading down past his belly button and vanishing beneath the top of his jeans, becomes torment. When your eyes find his again you can see that your scrutiny has left him breathless and his hands are clenching at the blanket beneath you.

Every fiber of your being seems to be alive in that moment, tingling with mingled anticipation and apprehension as he sits upright on his knees and places his hands underneath the bottom of your dress. His eyes never leaving yours, he drags the garment up and over your body, his fingers gliding along your thighs, hips, and then arms as you are left exposed to him. He tosses the dress lightly on the armchair next to the bed and then turns back towards you. The sudden vulnerability is too much and you begin to quiver but in an instant he has crawled over to you and wrapped you in his arms, shielding you from view and quieting your fears once more. He kisses the top of your forehead, then your cheek, before finally brushing your lips with his own.

You become lost in his tenderness, soon completely forgetting that you are near naked as his hands trail burning paths across your skin. In a frenzy of excitement you realize that his fingers have found the back of your bra and, with nimble skill, unclasp the hooks and allow the garment to fall loosely down your shoulders. He makes no movement to pull it away fully however, allowing you the time to become comfortable with the idea of exposing yourself to him. It’s not long before his gently explorative hands have heightened your courage and you shrug the bra off, leaving yourself almost fully naked before him.

The sincere delight that shines in his eyes as he drinks in your body makes you almost light-headed with euphoria. You’d never have thought that someone could gaze upon you with desire such as this, let alone the man you had fantasized about sharing this moment with for so long and yet believed never could have been possible. Gently he places one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, kissing you as he lowers you back onto the bed and deftly positioning himself between your legs. When he presses his weight into you, your eyes clench shut and a faint moan escapes your throat.

His hands caress your skin reverently and he stops kissing you long enough to whisper in your ear, “Do you trust me?” You nod your head, unable to speak when his fingers trail down your abdomen and come to rest atop the fabric of your panties. His eyes bore into yours as they slide beneath the material. One finger finds its way to the damp heat that has already become the focal point of your being and, as he makes one long, drawn out stroke along the length of you, you cry out in earnest, rolling your hips instinctively against his hand. A dull ache has begun to throb in the very pit of your stomach, a cavernous emptiness that you desperately yearn to be filled, and you realize with a start that you have begun to pant heavily. Your eyes find Tom’s, embarrassed, only to see that your reactions seem to have electrified him. He grins at you mischievously and slides his index finger slowly inside of you.

At first all you feel is pain as your body constricts around the foreign object. Despite the natural lubrication that had formed his finger moving in and out of you is all it takes to elicit a muted cry of pain and you bite your lip, struggling to keep quiet. He is overtop of you then, his lips brushing yours even as his finger move gently inside of you. “Try to relax, darling,” he murmurs against your lips.

You focus on breathing steadily and fixing your gaze on his eyes as his finger moves in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. Your body slowly acclimates to this stretching and you soon find that you are not gasping in pain anymore, but whimpering with each, delicate plunge of his finger. Tom readjusts himself so that his other hand is also free and he uses his thumb of that hand to rub in slow, deliberate circles around that sensitive little nub you had so often used to pleasure yourself. There was no comparing your own, clumsy touch with his, however, and soon you are moaning and rolling your hips against his hands, so caught up in your own pleasure that you have quite forgotten your timid fear.

Without warning his hands are removed from your body and you open your eyes as if in a fog, wondering with mounting dismay what you might have done wrong. Instead you find Tom has repositioned himself so that his pelvis is now pressing against yours and he lays himself across your chest so that he is supporting himself on his elbows, his knees nudging your legs gently until you shift them so that they are resting against his thighs. He meets your gaze with a smile so full of warmth that you feel no fear in that moment, only longing. His hand moves to the front of his jeans and you watch, your heart beat thudding loudly in your ears as you realize what he is doing. Unable to tear your gaze away you watch with awe as he unfastens his belt and then unbuttons and unzips his jeans, revealing in the dim glow of the moonlight the grey boxers underneath. His hand disappears into the soft fabric and extracts a long, thick object that leaves you dumbstruck.

He’s huge, are the two, uncomprehending words that flit across your mind before a primal need overtakes your senses. With gentle hands he slides the panties down from your hips and across your legs, and it takes all of your willpower to keep from ripping them off and throwing them aside, so painful is your ache for him. Tom smiles knowingly down at you and lowers himself once again so that his chest is pressed against yours, his lips scalding paths across your neck and under your ear as one hand finds a breast, which disappears completely under the sheer size of his hand. He kneads the soft flesh and gently twists at the hardened nipple, extracting a gasp of pleasure rattling out of your lungs. He chortles and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply the scent of you.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he whispers with a slightly wavering voice as his right hand disappears between where your hips meet. You can feel him fiddling with something in his pocket and then distinguish the sound of a wrapper opening. You lift your eyes to his face, curious, and when he notices your attention on him he smiles guiltily up at you as he tosses a condom wrapper onto the floor. You cannot contain the moan of mingled ecstasy and pain that bursts out of your throat as he pushes the tip of himself into you, obliterating all rational thought from your mind.

For the first few thrusts he only inserts himself partially and moves with hardly any force. Your body struggles to accept his girth and you writhe beneath him, gasping as your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. He doesn’t fight your frantic clutching of him but remains propped above you, watching your face intently for any sign that you wish for him to stop. A reckless frenzy erupts within you and you meet one of his gentle thrusts half-way, taking him fully inside of you. His eyes widen with surprise and, when you cry out from the pain of it, he reaches up a hand to caress your face.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks with a voice full of worry.

“No, please—“you whimper, willing yourself to fight the pain so that you can fully enjoy this night. “Don’t stop,” you plead and immediately his lips are on yours, his tongue finding yours as he plunges into you. Your groans of pain gradually morph into those of pleasure as the force behind his thrusts increase and soon he is rolling his hips against yours in such a way that you break the kiss, crying out in bliss as your breaths come in quick, sharp gasps.

Every part of you, every inch of your body that you never knew to be hollow seems to be filled up by Tom. Each movement feels like he is staking a claim upon you, burning a path so deep that no one else could ever hope to explore you so entirely. His eyes find yours and his arms slide up so that they are alongside your own and your fingers can link together. You grip onto his hands, squeezing them tightly every time he pushes his hips so hard against yours that your insides ache and you moan in rapturous protest. His lips find the base of your jaw and soon he is kissing paths all over every part of you that he could reach.

So caught up are you in your bliss that, without meaning to, you find yourself squeezing his shaft with your muscles, and he groans in your ear, his arms trembling slightly. The reaction is so startling and yet so arousing that you turn your face so that you might find his lips, and this time you compress him with your muscles intentionally. He groans and lets go of your hands so that he can hold the sides of your face still. His thrusting slows in speed and you gaze up at him, confused, only to gasp in exquisite agony as he slowly pushes himself inside of you to a depth that feels almost unbearable and remains there, pressing against your walls until you start to think that you can’t bear the pain and yet never want it to cease—and then slides himself out again. He repeats this for a while, his hands and eyes never leaving your face as, every time he pushes himself to the max of your boundaries, you cry out and clench his girth with your aching insides. Finally, without realizing you had done so, you cry out his name in a moment of ecstasy and he pauses, the sound of his name on your lips bringing a wicked grin to his lips for a moment, then the expression was gone.

Only when you start to think that you can’t take much more of the torture he reaches down so that his hand is pressed just above where he disappears inside of you. Your eyes find his, surprised, but he just smiles at you and begins to rub heated area in quick circles as his thrusts speed up to match his fingers. The sensation is overwhelming and you arch your back, lost in pleasure as Tom manipulates your body with the skill of one well-practiced. He presses his forehead to yours as he forces you to your limits, and every time you cry out his name you feel him shudder under your grasping hands as he takes you with renewed vigor.

A tension is balling up deep in the middle of your body, an exquisitely unbearable agony that you knew on a lesser scale from those secret moments of self-discovery that had been your only taste of pleasure. Those hasty, awkward moments paled in comparison to the mounting constriction of your body as Tom’s finger rub you raw in rhythm to his hips pounding into yours. Soon your breathing becomes constricted and you fight to keep your eyes open, your toes curling and whimpers fighting with your gasps for air. Tom tilts your chin so that your eyes are locked with his as your orgasm crashes over you, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you roll your hips against him in desperation and feeling your body constricting his cock greedily as his warm fingers still rub against you. Only when you take in a deep gulp of air and collapse, quivering, back onto the bed do you realize that you had been holding your breath and lifting yourself almost completely off of the mattress. You lay still then, a drowsy contentment washing over you.

Tom kisses you tenderly as he slides himself out of you. You gasp at the sudden emptiness he leaves in his wake and search his eyes in confusion as he rolls over,pulling you into his arms. “But… but you didn’t…Did I do something wrong?” Though you cannot bring yourself to confess your fear fully, his knowing expression warms your heart and lessens your anxiety.

“Tonight was about you, darling. Your first time should not be marred by a man who seeks his own pleasure rather than focusing solely upon giving you yours.”

You look up at Tom, mortified. “How did you know?”

Tom laughs and kisses you on the cheek. “Not to embarrass you sweetheart, but I could tell from the moment that I saw you in the club that you were a virgin.”

The club. Panic bubbles in your throat and you glance over at the clock on the nightstand—unbelievably the time reads 1:15 AM. You gasp and reach for the discarded purse on the side of the bed and pull out your phone. Sure enough there are a slew of texts from Tina, all demanding to know where you had gone to, if you are with someone, and finally threatening to call the cops if you didn’t respond. “I’m sorry,” you mutter in embarrassment as you quickly send a text to Tina, telling her you are fine and not to worry.

“Your sister?” Tom asks lightly, kissing your shoulder.

“Yes… She thought I had been murdered. So she texts me rather than raise the alarm,” you laugh dryly.

“Then we should probably return you to her before she does decide to call law enforcement on us.”

Even so, neither of you moves for a long time. The realization that the night with Tom was coming to a close hangs heavy over your mind. You roll over and cuddle up to his chest, burying your face in his neck and fighting back tears. The knowledge that after tonight you’d never cross paths again slashes at your heart like a dull blade. He notices your anguish and, correctly guessing its cause, pulls you more tightly into his arms and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll never forget the gift you gave me tonight, darling,” he murmurs with his lips pressed into the top of your hair. “I’ll never forget you.”

The tears fall then, silently streaming down your cheeks as reality hits home. Not wanting to ruin all that had passed you sit up and force a smile on your face. “Thank you, for everything,” you say with a hollowness that surprises even you. He smiles at you sadly and sits up so that he can caress your cheek.

“No. Thank you,” he corrects, kissing you softly on the lips. Together you both stand up and redress yourselves; he seems to sense your shyness and looks away as you refasten your bra and pull on your panties before sliding the dress back over your head. He’s just finishing pulling on his leather jacket when you turn around and stare at him with renewed longing, then quickly avert your gaze. He smiles at you and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you back to your sister.”

You find the group of girls, most of them still drunk and flirting with the various companions they had picked up throughout the night, sitting in the red chairs of the hotel lobby. Tina turns towards you in anger at the sound of your approach and then pulls up short, recognizing Tom instantly from your movie-viewing marathons and the wallpapers on your laptop. You watch your sister with pleading eyes, begging her silently to say nothing, but you know there is no hope for your sister’s black sense of humor and innate desire to torment you as often as she can.

“Well sis, looks like you actually landed your dream man. Did you have him autograph your tits?”

Eyes closed in embarrassment, it takes a moment for you to realize that Tom has taken your hand and was kissing it gently. You open your eyes again to meet his impossibly blue eyes and can see that knowing grin has returned to his lips. He kisses you on the cheek and whispers so softly in your ear that you almost can’t make out his words. “I know you know who I am; you were crying out my name quite passionately when I’d never gotten a chance to tell you what it was.” A wall of heat washes over you as he pecks your lips and then digs into his leather jacket, holding out your purse. “You forgot this in the hotel room, darling.” He pauses to brush a lock of hair out of your face and a tender smile brightens his features. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

He inclines his head to you and waves, smiling as he walks back towards the elevator with his hands burrowed into his jacket pockets. In the wake of his leaving you notice that everyone in the lobby is staring at you in undisguised disbelief and you clutch the purse to your chest, both mortified and pleased with the realization that everyone now knows what had happened between Tom and you. Even their abrupt shift to sarcastic jokes and requests for sordid details does not lessen the glow of happiness billowing in your chest as you follow them outside towards where the limousine sat, waiting for you all.

“God I’m starving. We should order a pizza for when we get back home. Sis, you call and order.”

Rolling your eyes slightly at Tina’s command as, your mind still too caught up in the unreal turn of events the night had taken to allow your mood to be dampened, you reach into your purse to pull out your phone. Something papery that had not been there before brushes your fingertips and you pull out a folded up piece of hotel parchment. Heart pounding in your ears you unfold it to see a familiar handwriting sprawling a note, comprising of a phone number that was followed by a hastily scrawled message:

 

“Should you ever need me for anything, I am just a phone call away.

Yours,

Tom”

 

You stare at the parchment for a moment, stunned, until Tina starts yelling at you to call for the damn pizzas. Smiling so broadly that it was painful, you tuck the paper safely back into your purse and look up the phone number for a pizza shop, your heart nearly bursting with joy.


End file.
